


The Prodigal

by something_pithy



Series: pick a petal [1]
Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, F/F, F/M, Friendship is complicated, Girls and Their Feelings, Heartbreak, How You Gon Have A Show with Some Brown Kids in NC and Not Address Race, Humans and Their Feelings, JJ Gives No Fucks About My Opinions, JJ Has PTSD Fight Me, Kie Is a Tender Baby and Deserves Forgiveness, Mending Fences, Pre-Canon, Racism, Slow Burn, Teen Angst, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, also friendship really IS magic, boys and their feelings, fixing it, sick burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:41:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/something_pithy/pseuds/something_pithy
Summary: She didn’t know how to reach out.Sarah’s rejection had hurt, and being shoved back to outsider status – only worse this time, because she didn’t just not fit in, she was asnitch–Every day was a new adventure in how big a boulder she could carry around in her stomach.Of course, the first thing she wanted to do was call the guys – but how could she?
Relationships: JJ & Kiara & Pope & John B. Routledge, JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks), Kiara & John B. Routledge, Kiara & Pope (Outer Banks), Kiara Carrera & John B Routledge, Kiara Carrera & John B Routledge & JJ Maybank & Pope Heyward, Kiara Carrera & Pope Heyward, Kiara Carrera/JJ Maybank, past Kiara Carrera/Sarah Cameron, past Kiara/Sarah (Outer Banks)
Series: pick a petal [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722859
Comments: 44
Kudos: 214





	1. Returns

**Author's Note:**

> So... I just can't help but think that Kiara's Year of the Kooks must not have gone over at all well with the Pogues, but particularly with JJ, given both canonical experience and... _reasons_. :D 
> 
> I'm a little obsessed with how things got to where they are now, so I'mma write about her return.

She didn’t know how to reach out.

Sarah’s rejection had hurt, and being shoved back to outsider status – only worse this time, because she didn’t just not fit in, she was a _snitch_ –

Every day was a new adventure in how big a boulder she could carry around in her stomach.

Of course, the first thing she wanted to do was call the guys – but how could she?

It wasn’t that she’d left them – not on purpose, not with intent. That had to matter.

The beginning of freshman year had been so, so hard.

The kids at the Kook academy were nothing like her – they were so spoiled and self-involved and _rich._

Of course, she was fluent in the language – the etiquette, the hierarchies, the unspoken code of conduct – but playing those games made her impatient and irritable and nauseated. And even if she’d wanted to be a part of that world, everyone knew she wasn’t one of them – not really.

Nobody in the Figure Eight took kindly to the fact that Mike and Anna Carrera had made good – or at least had made good enough to live among them, to send their half-breed daughter to their exclusive Preparatory Academy™, to try to reclaim the privileges she’d tossed away when she’d taken up with some working-class Mexican (he wasn’t Mexican).  
  
No, they took every chance they could to remind the Carreras that they could be as successful as they wanted with their little restaurant, but they would never _belong_ – and neither would their little mutt. The fact that it honestly didn’t even occur to Kie to try to go along to get along didn’t do her any favors. She wanted to – she wanted to make music, to save the earth, to go all in on a revolution of peace and equity and love.

She’d learned quick to ignore their snickers, their veiled insults, their venomous smiles.

But then Sarah Cameron.

Sarah Cameron, who was beautiful and kind and smart; Sarah Cameron, whose hair shone like gold and who laughed like summer and wanted to save the turtles.

Sarah Cameron, who took her by the hand and welcomed her to her kingdom; who sat next to her in bio, whose knee touched hers as they sat closer than they necessarily needed to.  
  
Sarah Cameron.  
  
The other Kooks didn’t matter, and anyway, when you were on Sarah Cameron’s guest list, people at least did a better job of pretending to be civil.  
  
She hadn’t left the boys behind, it wasn't that she didn’t want to hang out with them. It was just that missing any opportunity to be with Sarah was… impossible. She didn’t even think she'd known how.

Which made the pain and the shame of her rejection even more humiliating.

Somehow, she’d ended up in the Cut, on the dock. Their dock.  
  
They weren’t there, and that was almost a relief – it should have been a relief. But instead, she was filled with dread that she was too late – that this was stupid, this was a mistake, and she’d turned around, eyes glassy with self-pity and regret, to head back, to go somewhere, anywhere else.  
  
But then, before she even took a step, there they were, all three of them. Pope looked surprised; John B. was smiling – how could he be _smiling_?

But then there was JJ.

Arms folded, brow cocked, looking at her with the kind of dispassionate sneer he reserved especially for Kooks.  
  
“The fuck’re _you_ doing here?” 


	2. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rancor, remorse, resistance, reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O hai
> 
> it's the next chapter
> 
> things happen >.>
> 
> But really, thanks so much for the kudos and kind words -- normally I take a little longer to produce, but comments are the best reward! Also super motivational! <3

_“The fuck’re_ you _doing here?”_

The feeling of bristling while at the exact same time feeling like she’d been gut-punched was… unfamiliar and unexpected. Pope’s eyes were wide as he looked from her to JJ; John B looked sharply at JJ.

Kie’s lips parted, a hundred different replies clogging her throat, and before she could dislodge any of them, she pressed her lips together, nodded once, then said, “Just… came to say what’s up, I guess.”  
  
“What’s up?” Pope said with a grin.  
  
JJ shook his head, his gaze never leaving her.  
  
“Wow, that’s crazy. All of a sudden, after, what? Almost a year? You wanna know what’s up?”

“JJ –“ John B began – an appeal to reason. A warning?

“Nah, it’s cool,” JJ said with a smirk. “I’ll tell you what’s up, _Kiara_. What’s up is that you moved to your fancy new neighborhood – what’s that big word you always like to use? Bourgeois? -- and disappeared for a fuckin' year, that's what's up."  
  


Her jaw went tight; her hands curled into fists.

  
His smirk deepened, but his eyes were flint. “What, the Kooks don’t want you anymore, so you decided to come back slumming to the Cut?”

“The Kooks never wanted me,” she said plainly, chin high.

He laughed, then – hard and cold and without a trace of humor.

“Aw, is this some poor little rich Kook shit? Poor you –”

“Shut up, JJ,” John B said, finally.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me, John B?” JJ looked to the other boy, incredulous. “She’s been too busy with all her new Kook besties to even ask you about your dad, and you’re gonna just –“  
  
“I’m gonna just let her talk, JJ,” John B retorted, turning to look at Kie. 

And then she had to look at him, because if anybody should have been telling her to get off their dock and out of the Cut, it was him. Somehow she’d convinced herself, when she’d missed calls and forgot to call back, and then too much time had passed and she didn’t know how to call back, didn’t know how to apologize for not being there when he was alone, probably with fear and worry gnawing a bigger hole in the pit of his stomach every day, that he had Pope and JJ, that they would take care of him.  
  
And looking at him now, as he looked back at her with nothing in his eyes but kindness, openness, but also a sadness that had never been there before, she thought the shame would drown her.

JJ looked from John B to her then back, and he looked like he was about to crack all his teeth, they were clenched so tight. And then,  
  
“Oh _fuck_ this,” he spat, shooting her a look so poisoned with disgust and contempt she almost took a step back before he started stalking back down the dock.

Pope looked from her to JJ and said, “I’m just gonna go make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid,” he said. “But it’s good to see you, Kie. You should come back.”  
  
She gave him a half-smile.  
  
“Thanks, Pope. It’s good to see you, too.”

He gave her a smile and a little salute to John B before he turned and went after JJ in a jog.  
  
She took a deep breath and turned back to John B, who had that same look on his face.  
  
“So,” he said with the slightest curve to his lips. “What’s up?”

Despite herself, she laughed – it felt rusty and weak, but it was the first one she could remember in a while.  
  
She bit her lip, then.  
  
“I’m sorry, John B.”  
  
He took a breath, then exhaled, squinting out over the water.  
  
“What’re you sorry for, Kie?” he asked, his voice weary as he moved to sit on the edge of the dock, his feet dangling over the water.  
  
She sat next to him, but far enough away so it didn’t seem like she was presuming anything.  
  
She was quiet for a moment before she answered. The sounds of seagulls and the waves lapping against the wood below them filled the space.  
  
“For being a shit friend, mostly,” she said after a while. Maybe too long.  
  
Another exhale as he looked over the water.  
  
“It’s been a rough month,” he said.  
  
“Yeah,” she said softly. “I…”  
  
She shook her head. He cast a sidelong glance at her.  
  
“What?”

She bit her lip and exhaled softly, slowly.  
  
“It’s sad and stupid and fucking inadequate to say something stupid like, ‘I was caught up,’” she admitted. “But that’s… mostly what it was. If it’s any consolation, I learned the hard way who my real friends are. Or were, I guess.”  
  
She took chance at looking his way. He looked back, something wry curling his lips.

“So you came to hand in your membership pin?” he asked.

She sucked her teeth.  
  
“No, stupid,” she replied automatically, then looked quickly at him, remembering this was supposed to be an apology. Or making amends, or something. But before she could apologize for fucking up the apology, he laughed.

“Then chill out, Kie,” he said. “It sucked, but… I guess we all get caught up sometimes.”

She turned to look at him fully, then.  
  
“I really am sorry, John B,” she said quietly. “I promise – I swear – the next time you need me, I’ll be there. No matter what.”

He turned, too, and smiled – something more earnest than the ones before.

“It’s cool,” he said. “So I guess this means you haven’t gone full Kook, after all, huh?”

She snorted.

“Please, I’ve got too much melanin and not enough houses for them to look at me as anything but the help, anyway.”  
  
He barked out a genuine, full, loud laugh, and she smiled, relief unfurling in her stomach as she shouldered into him and he shouldered her back. After a brief, companionable silence, she finally ventured to ask:

“So JJ pretty much hates me now, huh?”  
  
It took him just a beat too long to reply.  
  
“Mm… I wouldn’t say _hates_ ,” he hedged.  
  
“Shit,” she breathed. “It’s worse than I thought.”

“He’ll come around,” he said.  
  
“Mm,” she hummed noncommittally.  
  
John B had always been an optimist. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: 
> 
> "I Think We're Alone Now"
> 
> or 
> 
> "There Will Be Blood"
> 
> I'm speaking metaphorically, of course.
> 
> OR AM I
> 
> no, I'm pretty sure I am. :D But still -- probably some fireworks. Or firepower.
> 
> Metaphorically. Of course. :D >.>


	3. The Other Testament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is drinking, a certain kind of tension, another kind of tension, and a confrontation. :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I have no chill! 
> 
> This is the next chapter. It has not been beta'd. I wrote it tonight, right after I finished Chapter 2, because predictably, these characters aren't really _that_ interested in following my outline any more than vaguely, so I'm just skipping jauntily after them and writing things down before they outrun me. :D
> 
> So what I'm saying is, it's not beta'd, hope you like it! :D 
> 
> Also - I was kinda tryna do a low-key prodigal son parable chapter naming theme, but in fact, what's interesting about this is if you look at the prodigal son parable as a fix-it of the Cain and Abel parable, John B is the dad in the New Testament, "aww, bb, come home, I love you," and JJ (as you may have already guessed) is more the OG "God the Father before Jesus gave him some chill" Old Testament dad, which means, well...
> 
> LOLOLOL I guess you'll see when you read it.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for the kudos and the comments. I literally am posting this right now instead of buying myself some time / tryna be cute because of straight up comment loveliness of Ms. @ohkayy <3
> 
> Love love!

**Chapter 3: The Other Testament**

There was no way this didn’t end badly.

It wasn’t at all that Kie was stupid – not even close. And normally, her common sense and substantial emotional intelligence would have confirmed what John B had already told her in October, and what Pope echoed a few weeks later.

_He’ll come around.  
  
Give him time._

But the problem with her common sense and emotional intelligence was that they tended to pack their bags and take the night off when she was well and truly fucking _pissed_.

It didn’t come up that often, because she didn’t get this angry that often. It really wasn’t that easy to get under her skin.

Of course, if JJ Maybank had any superpowers, the ability to get under people’s skin when he decided to would definitely be one.

It had been a long month.

After her talk with JB, and then a more comfortable, weirder, less heavy one with Pope, she’d just started… coming around again. Not like before, at first – maybe once on the weekends.  
  
JJ had just ignored her, then – straight up cold shouldered her.

There were some woosah moments, for sure, but John B and Pope’s voices resonated in her head, and their reassuring looks reminded her:

_He’ll come around._

_Give him time._

So she did. She still said hi; when he didn’t respond, she kept things light, civil. And it wasn’t long before she and Pope and John B were back to the way things used to be, like she’d never been gone.  
  
The tension with JJ made things… awkward. But she did her best to work around it.

When she started coming through more though – after work, Friday nights, Saturdays and Sundays…

He started getting mean.

She knew John B had talked to him because he mostly tried to keep it under his breath, or with dirty looks.  
  
At first, it made her feel bad, but before long, she could feel her cheeks getting flushed, the tension in her muscles, the pounding of her heart.

And then – she just snapped.

\--

They were on the beach, around the firepit, laughing, empty bottles in something vaguely resembling a pile somewhere near the middle. She was serenading John B with an old 90s gag song as she pulled Pope into a dance. JJ was lounging in what, if she’d been a little more sober and paying a little more attention, she’d have noticed was an ominous brood. But his posture was relaxed, and he was drinking his beer, and she was belting -- with Pope joining in even! --

“…because I got high, because I got high, because I got hiiiiggghh…” and collapsed into giggles and sand. Pope sat next to her.

“Let’s play a game,” JJ said, taking a sip of his beer, eyes on her.

He licked a drop off his lower lip.

She blinked; wet her lips, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

The way he said it – it was –

She almost laughed at herself. She _must_ be drunk if she thought –

No way. He might be easing up a little, but things weren’t OK with them. Not yet. Definitely not enough for –

“What game?” Pope asked.

“How about Would You Rather?” JJ said, glancing at Pope before looking back at her. His buzz was making his drawl a little more pronounced, which made his voice sound almost like a purr while his gaze still lingered on her. She took a breath and sipped her beer because she decided the best thing to do with that line of thought was drink it under the table.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” John B said genially. Pope nodded.

“Yes,” Pope agreed. “Would You Rather always ends up ridiculous or disgusting or hilarious.”

“Or all three,” JJ nodded. “What about you, Kie? You in?”

She nodded, half-smiling. “Yeah, I’m down.”

“Cool,” he said. “You first.”

Something flickered through her stomach – just the tiniest misgiving which she drowned with a swig of beer.

“OK, shoot,” she said.

“Would you rather…” he drew it out, canting his head to one side, watching her, “be banned from the Cut for life, or fuck a Kook?”

She blinked and sat up, back straight. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” he said, sitting up himself, the lounge dissolved into a posture tight with tension.

“Whoa, guys, come on –” Pope said. John B was sitting up, too, but Kie was already on her feet.

“You got something to say to me, JJ?” she spat, stalking over to him – but he was already on his feet, too, and suddenly she was inches away from him, her hands balled into fists. John B was up, too, and so was Pope.

“Yeah, you know, I do,” he said, leaning in to be definitively in her space. “I heard the reason you slinked back here with your tail between your legs was because you fucked some Kook, and once he got what he wanted, he kicked your ass to the curb with the rest of the trash. That true?”

She paled and sucked in a breath and wasn't at all conscious of the apparent decision to reel back and slap the _shit_ out of him.

His head turned, but he was smirking.

“Well, I guess that answers that,” he said, right before she launched herself at him, but was intercepted by John B, who held her back by the arms as Pope got between them.

“ _Fuck. You,_ JJ,” she bellowed at him, straining against John B’s grip.

He grinned, then, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Sure, I guess,” he said. “But how many Kooks to I have to get in line behind? I gotta plan my schedule.”

“JJ!” Pope shouted at the same time John B yelled, “Shut the _fuck up_ , JJ!”

He shook his head, smirking. “I can’t believe you two are back on your bullshit with her again. She already showed us who she really is.”

Pope was pushing him back toward town, away from the water, away from her.  
There were tears welling in her eyes but she was pulling and writhing to get free of John B with everything she had in her, because all she wanted was to shut him the _fuck_ up, to – to –

She didn’t even know. She didn’t even know, and John B. had his arms around her now, and it was fucking _unfair_ because she could not contain her fury, but really, the hurt and fucking betrayal fueling it, and the only release she could imagine was crying or violence, and she refused to cry, because the unrelenting anger in her deserved – she –

The betrayal.

They made eye contact then, she and JJ, and she hated the fact that her eyes were welled up with her rage, the fact that she knew the hurt was just as clear on her face as the anger, because whatever taunt he had ready had died on his lips and he just looked at her grimly, jaw tight, as Pope pushed him further and further away.  
  
And then there was John B, still holding her, but it gentled because then she _was_ crying, once JJ was gone and couldn’t see her, and she turned around and wet his shirt and it was gross and sloppy and ugly and he just held her until there was nothing left.  
  
\--

So now, she was walking up to JJ’s front door, because this shit had gone too far for too long – it had taken her two weeks. Two weeks without seeing him, trying to make sure that he wasn’t gonna be there if she was, so a lot less time in the cut.

Christmas decorations twinkled around the neighborhood, but not at his house. Though that wasn’t a surprise. Luke Maybank wasn’t known for being festive.

She stood at the end of the street, fists clenched, and inhaled a breath, bracing herself for whatever was about to happen.

She did not expect it to be pretty.

But then she heard a crash – and shouting, and –

Before she bothered to figure it out, she was already running toward the house, flinging open the screen door, and bolting inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WONDER WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT
> 
> J/K, I know a guy, I totally know
> 
> What's coming up in the next chapter might be tough for some people to read, so I'mma add warnings when I post it. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


	4. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things are released, revealed, and resolved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so yes, once again, no chill. But listen, I had to capitalize on the momentum and get while the getting was good! Or at least passing fair. >.>
> 
> Also, yes, I know, Revelation has literally nothing to do with The Prodigal Son or Cain and Abel except for the fact that they’re in the same book but also I CANNOT RESIST A THEMATIC PUN FIGHT ME
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

It was a fucking shitshow.  
  
JJ had never made a habit of entertaining, and she couldn’t remember a time before the unspoken agreement among the group that they just didn’t hang out at JJ’s.

But beside the empty bottles and cans strewn everywhere, dirty dishes, papers, pill bottles, mirrored surfaces dulled with the film born when someone licked powder off them, it was filthy and cluttered and there were broken things everywhere, not the least of which was JJ. 

“…fuckin’ _waste_ ,” JJ’s dad spat with so much contempt that it took Kie aback. “No wonder your fuckin mother left – she musta known what a thieving little piece of shit you were gonna turn out to be.”

JJ’s lip curled in disgust.  
  
“Yeah, it definitely musta been the three-year-old kid that made her leave, instead of the fuckin’ drunk-“

The crack of Luke Maybank’s fist against his son’s jaw echoed through the room; JJ staggered, his head turned by the force of the blow – the sound was followed by Kie’s audible gasp.  
  
Luke, apparently, was too drunk to notice, but JJ’s eyes snapped to her immediately, and his eyes widened, something flickering in them for an instant before he shook his head and started stalking toward her, jaw clenched, movements swift and menacing, whatever she saw before in his eyes replaced by a dead-eyed stare that belied the rage tensing what seemed like every muscle in his body.  
  
“Yeah, get the fuck outta here,” Luke said, following his son’s movements to see Kiara. “And don’t ever let me catch you touchin’ my fuckin’ shit again!”  
  
The last, Kiara only heard, because as Luke was still hollering, JJ had caught her by the arm and was half dragging her out of the house.  
  
“JJ!” she exclaimed, ignoring, for the moment, his grip on her upper arm which, while not bruising, was completely uncompromising. “JJ, slow down – are you OK?”  
  
“We need to get the fuck out of here,” he hissed at her. He spotted her mom’s truck and moved faster toward it. “What the fuck’re you even doing here?”  
  
She shook her head as they approached the truck. “I – it doesn’t matter. It’s not important.” They finally stopped by the driver’s side of the truck, and she pulled free of his grip, only to lightly guide his chin to the left so she could get a better look at his jaw.  
  
It was barely a second before he shook free.  
  
“Right,” he said. “You were just swingin’ by to say hi to your old pal JJ.”  
  
The sneer in his voice permeated every word.  
  
She glared up at him.  
  
“Shut up and let me look at it,” she said, turning his face again, this time more firmly, but no less carefully.

He swatted her hand away this time.

“Don’t fucking _do_ that,” he near-snarled at her. “I don’t need your help, and I don’t want you to fuckin’ take care of me because you feel guilty about your little girl slap.”

Her eyes widened and she leaned to one side, incredulous, agape, before she narrowed them.

How could one person fit so many insults into one sentence?

“The fuck is _wrong_ with you, JJ?” she said finally.

“The fuck is wrong with _you_ , _Kiara_?” he mocked.

“ _Look_ ,” she said. “I know you’re still pissed off at me about me going to the Kook Academy, and actually making other friends, but that doesn’t meant _you’re_ not still my friend, that I don’t still care –”

He laughed, harsh and humorless.

She stopped, staring.

“Are you for real?” she asked.

“Are _you_ for real?” he retorted.

“How fucking old are you? Are you just gonna repeat everything I say now?” she snapped.

“No, it’s a legit question,” he said, moving closer to her; she stood her ground. “You seriously are gonna try to sell me on some bullshit story about how nothing really changed, that _I’m_ the fucked up one for calling you out for selling out, selling _us_ out to go rub elbows with all your new buddies in the Figure Eight?”

He snorted.

“You might have John B and Pope wrapped around your finger with your wide-eyed, sad-girl bullshit, but sometimes you actually have to answer for when you fuck people over.”

She looked at him uncomprehendingly, face contorted with incredulity.

“Fuck you over? Jesus Christ, JJ, I fell out of touch for a few months –”

“You fucking _left_!” he shouted at her; somehow they’d gotten so close that she could feel his breath on her lips, the heat of his body radiating off of him, see the vein in his neck, at his temple. “You don’t just fucking _abandon_ people and expect them welcome you the fuck back with open arms like some kinda fuckin’ punk bitch!”

He stepped back from her then, breath harsh and heavy, raking a hand through his hair; her heart was trying to hammer a hole through her ribcage, her breath was coming quick and slightly shaky, and she raised a hand to her mouth as slow realization dawned on her.

His own breath was ragged, every muscle in his body tense, fists clenched, and he wasn’t looking at her.  
  
He wasn’t looking at her, but he wasn’t walking away.  
  
“JJ,” she said softly, quietly, moving closer to him.

“Don’t, Kie,” he warned just as quietly, not looking at her.

She continued moving forward.  
  
“JJ, I’m sorry, OK?”

Another step.

"Fuckin... stop," he muttered, still not looking up.

Another step.

“I’m honestly, really, really sorry. I – I didn’t – I didn’t want to leave, JJ. I never would have left the Cut if I’d had a choice.”

Another.

“I never would have left you,” she said so softly he might have missed it if she hadn’t somehow gotten within arm’s reach of him, closer; then she wet her lips and added, maybe too quickly. “Any of you.”

“Fucking _don’t_ , Kie,” he said even more softly, an almost undetectable tremor in his voice, still not looking at her.

“I swear to God, JJ,” she said. “I know – I know what it looked like, but – y’all are my family. Pogues for life. No matter what, I’ll never –”

His head snapped up, then, his eyes boring holes into hers.

“So why the fuck did you?” he demanded, his voice still low, but hard, unrelenting, unforgiving. “Yeah, you didn’t have a choice about your bullshit Kook school or your new house, but you had a choice about whether you came through. About who you spent the summer with.”

Her eyes were welling up now, but she didn’t look away, even as she bit her lip.

“I –” she took a breath, exhaling frustratedly; closed her eyes for a second, then, as she raked a hand through her hair, braced herself, then opened them, looked at him. “There was someone, OK?”

His jaw went tight for just a second, but when he spoke, it was casual – barely a notch above polite interest.

“Who?”

She shook her head.

“Nothing – nothing happened. Not really,” she said softly. “I wanted it to.”

She wet her lips, pressed them together.

“I probably would have. I think… I think I might have been in love. Maybe. I don’t know. But -- I thought – I thought maybe it wasn’t just me, but…”

The breath she took was just barely unsteady.

“But – it wasn’t like that. It was never like that. And –” she shook her head again, then looked back up at him. “I got fucked over, you know? Like, I opened up and just – fell hard, and then – just – all of a sudden, I was nothing. I was a punchline. The stupid little brown Pogue trying to play way out of her league. So I was heartbroken, and ashamed, and a total goddamn idiot. And I just – I just wanted to come home.”  
  
She exhaled a long breath, and looked back up at him. 

He’d been quiet the whole time, face impassive, just watching her, listening. His mouth was tight, and when she was done, he was still quiet for moments that felt basically endless. But she didn’t look away.  
  
“Who was it?” he asked finally, voice just a little too even.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, JJ.”

“Uh, yeah, it matters, Kie,” he said, adamant.

“Why?” she asked.

“So we can go pour sand in their gas tank, duh,” he said. She blinked. He was dead serious.

She smacked his arm.

“Hey!” he said, recoiling from her. “You know, your time in the Figure Eight has made you really violent, you know that?”

She burst into laughter.

“Shut the fuck up!” she said, pushing him.

“No, seriously, I just don’t feel safe –”

With that, she leapt at him, throwing her arms around his neck, and he caught her around the waist, swinging her around as she hugged him tight.  
  
When they let each other go, she looked up at him.  
  
“I really am sorry, JJ,” she said earnestly. “I am.

He nodded. "It's all good, Kie," he said quietly.

She nodded, and was quite for a beat. 

Then she squinted slightly. 

“Well... while we’re getting apologies out of the way…”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah…?”

“I wanna say I’m sorry I hit you…”

His eyebrows inched up.

“…but you deserved it.” 

He wet his lip then bit it, nodding.

“Yeah… well…” he pulled a hand through his hair. “I may have said some things to you that were…”

She arched a brow and blinked, not willing to supply him with anything.

“Yes…?” she prompted.

He sighed, looking up.

“Way the fuck out of line,” he mumbled.

“What was that?” she asked, leaning in closer.

“I was out line,” he said louder. “It was fucked up. I’m sorry.”

She would have softened immediately because getting any ownership of responsibility, much less an apology, out of JJ for anything would have been a real breakthrough moment – but the context made this one restorative in a way she couldn’t have expected.

“It’s OK, JJ,” she said. He looked down and shook his head.

“Nah,” he said. “Nah, it isn’t. But I am sorry about it, and… I’ll try not to be that much of a dick again.”

“Oh, Maybank, don’t let your mouth go signing checks that your ass can’t cash,” she teased.

“I mean, to you, duh,” he said, looking up at her with a smirk. “I’ve got a brand to consider, you know.”

A gust of laughter burst out of her.

“I mean, that’s fair,” she said with a grin. “You wanna go meet up with Pope and John B at the dock?”

“Yeah,” he said, moving to walk around to the passenger side.

As they were buckling up, he said,

“Oh yeah; Kie?

“Hmm?” she said, adjusting her mirrors.

“You don’t have to apologize for hitting me,” he said softly, earnestly. She looked at him, her lips parted to protest.

“… because you hit like a girl.”

Her eyes widened and she smacked his arm.

“Damn, Kie, how haven’t we taught you how to throw a punch yet?”

She scowled at him.

“Shut up, Maybank,” she said as she started up the car.

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a grin as they got on the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is! The end of the story. 
> 
> Thank you for your lovely comments, which were so appreciated, and motivational and inspirational. 
> 
> A special shoutout to @ohkayy, whose insights and genuine understanding of what I was trying to do in his little story as well as their kind words stoked my enjoyment of writing. Yay!
> 
> There's a good chance there'll be a follow-up (or follow-ups?) to this story that pick up at points after this one. 
> 
> There's a good likelihood of some Pogue Friendship is Magic (and let's be honest, probably Angsty because I love the angst, I want to lick it) one-shots and possibly Other Things.
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr if you have questions, ideas, or challenges you'd like me to think about taking on! 
> 
> Love love!

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr. It's been asleep for a long time. But you know, the 'rona might revive it. :D
> 
> [something pithy](http://something-pithy.tumblr.com)


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